Christine obeyed, and returned in a moment.
"Yes, he's alone," she said.
"Then let's let him in," said Leroux; "but we must be prudent till our friends return."
Having replaced the table in the middle of the room, Leroux resumed his pipe and his seat before the fire, while Christine opened the door of the hovel to the person who had knocked.
The stranger who appeared in the doorway was an elderly man, whose dress denoted wealth, and his manners high rank; but he was hatless, his clothes were in disorder, and the pallor of his cheeks betrayed agitation and fear. He rushed into the cabin, and did not seem to breathe freely until he saw the door closed and locked behind him.
"Pardon, pardon, good people!" he said, addressing Leroux and Christine; "I fear I have disturbed you and interrupted your rest; but by giving me shelter you save my life."
"How so, monsieur?" said Leroux, with an air of deep interest.
"I have just been attacked, my friends, yonder, on the road that crosses the forest I was in my carriage, with my servant, and the postilion was urging the horses. Suddenly a party of robbers came out of the forest; they rushed to the horses' heads and fired point-blank at the postilion; the poor fellow fell dead! Having stopped the carriage, they ordered me and my servant to alight, and one of them got in to search it; while he was inside, I took advantage of a moment when the villains had not their eyes on me, and plunged into the forest, selecting the darkest paths; I succeeded in getting thus far, when I saw this light and knocked at your door."
"You did well, monsieur," said Leroux, with a significant glance at Christine. "Sit you down before the fire, and warm yourself and get back your breath."
"Oh! you are too kind!" said the traveller, seating himself by the hearth; "but my unfortunate servant—what have they done to him? will he, too, be their victim?"